


Nothing

by cloudtalking



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Faerie AU, Faeries - Freeform, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sexual Assault, goddamn, i had a lot of fun writing this, im a sucker for magic man, okay, the first visit to columbia should be a warning of its own
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudtalking/pseuds/cloudtalking
Summary: What is life if no one knows you're living it? What's death if you've been forgotten?





	Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know there this is going, but we'll just have to see! I'm not too good with chaptered fics. It was inspired by this wonderful art by @rabus on tumblr: http://rabus.tumblr.com/post/158280004509/orange-neil-or-faerie-andrew-thanks 
> 
> Enjoy!

_“I need- I need protection,” Kevin begged, falling to his knees. He was out of breath and out of time._

_“Hmm?” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere in the bright clearing. It was beautiful and full of wildflowers and a light, warm wind but somehow Kevin knew that the smile he heard in the voice wasn’t a kind one. “What will you give me?”_

_Kevin whispered his answer into the wind while the very earth beneath shook under him as if laughing at his expense._

_“Arrogant,” the voice accused, “to think you can do that.”_

_“I can,” Kevin insisted, trying to sound confident. The earth quivered once more. The sound of the wind rustling through the foliage made him bite his lip to keep from showing just how out of his element he was._

_“Oh, little bird!” the voice cried out in glee. “We’re gonna have so much fun!”_

_The ground swallowed him up. The sound of muffled hoofbeats above him and his own screams were the only company he had as he fell down, down, down…_

* * *

Neil was used to changing names and faces. He was used to switching places and becoming other people. He was used to a life of always being someone else. His mother had trained him for this, fearing what his true self would be like. She was haunted by the memory of his father, an imprint of his smile always hiding behind her eyelids.

It was no surprise that after so many years of never being real, it turned out that he wasn’t. His true name was lost somewhere between Abram and Nathaniel, and by only calling him the former, she no longer lorded over him. He stayed with her anyway; he was lost without her. She was a constant, the only thing that was real. He’d lost himself in the names and faces he’d put on over his own and didn’t have a shovel to dig for who he used to be. All he had was Mary Hatford.

She knew what she’d done to her son the second she saw him that day. He was malnourished as always, but his skinny limbs were far longer, his short stature was more pronounced, his blank eyes had new depths. He was a living skeleton, something less than human, something Mary didn’t have a name for. Even the summers spent in the rural U.K., in places that hadn’t yet accepted electricity in their lifestyles, hadn’t taught her how to handle all of the fair folk. Hadn’t taught her to handle what had become of her son.

She died from internal bleeding on a beach in Seattle, and she didn’t speak to him. She’d long since stopped talking to him. He’d just followed blindly behind her like her son once had.

Nathaniel Wesninski, Abram Hatford, Neil Josten. He was none of them, but he went through the motions. He bought new IDs, he went to school, he ran.

But where was he running to? The people he was running from kept on dying and every time they died he faded away a little more.

_They’re the only ones who know you’re alive_ , a voice reminded him. _They’re the only ones who’d care if you died._

_Fuck off_ , he told it.

He would stay alive, he would keep running until his legs turned to ash, and then he would fucking _crawl_. It was all he knew how to do.

He ran from town to town, from state to state. Countries and continents passed in a blink. Oceans were nothing more than ponds. He flitted from place to place and he did it fast. He needed something to do, something to keep him from realizing he was dead.

What is life if no one knows you’re living it? What is death if you’ve been forgotten?

_Limbo_ , the voice supplied, _all that time running, and you never realized you were stuck_.

He didn’t respond.

His aimless wandering had led him to Cavan, Ireland this time around. He was in a small town full of farms and fields and unpaved roads. It was perfect.

The voice called it _Éire_ , called it _home_.

Neil hated the Islands.

Sometimes though, sometimes in these small towns he found quiet places. Away from the farmland and the people and towards the hills and trees that the elders told the children not to touch.

The people didn’t dare go near any trace of _Elsewhere_ so he was completely alone in his clearing, save the wind. The wind was a constant friend of his and Neil was always two pounds away from blowing away in it.

Neil, in a fit of childish wonder that he may never admit to, followed the swirling leaves the wind had picked up as if they were a path to something bigger and more wondrous. He spun around and around in a dance with no real rhythm as he did, smiling gleefully for the first time in ages.

It was then that he realized that something was off, because as hollow as he was, he hadn’t felt any sort of strong emotion in what felt like years, decades even.

He had danced into a circle of flowers and toadstools. It was ringed with four thick trees with white blossoms. He couldn’t stop dancing.

_A faerie ring_ , the voice inside him cursed, _you idiot_.

_Fuck_. He thought back.

He didn’t know how long he was trapped there, just that he was. Laughing pixies and imps crowded his ears, accompanied by a manic song that was unlike any music he had ever heard. It was somehow uncoordinated and off-beat and the best sound he’d ever heard. It was hypnotizing.

Another faerie entered the circle to dance with him, and he was only too happy to comply. Neil’s feet were raw and bleeding, but he danced like pain was the last of his worries. He let the faerie’s arms wrap around him and move him violently to the beat. All Neil could do was grin.

He switched out partners a bit later, quickly forgetting about the last one in favor of the dark-skinned faerie before him. His ears were large and oriented downwards, his arms were covered in spiraling tattoos. He had a smile that was too comforted for his small but sharp teeth and his eyes were a deep brown, the same color as his curly hair. The oddest thing about him was probably his hooved feet, but Neil only minded them if they were about to step on his own.

_“Take_ _this,”_ the faerie purred at him, presenting a pouch full of powder, _“it feels amazing!”_

Neil shook his head vigorously, remembering the warnings his mother had given him on dealing with the fair folk. “Do not eat anything they give you,” she’d ordered, eyes stern like they always were before he’d lost himself. “You’ll be trapped forever in their grasp.”

But the dark-skinned faerie paid his resistance no mind as he downed the powder himself, tilted Neil’s head back and pressed his lips to his. Neil fought to keep his lips together, but the faerie grabbed his nose to close his nostrils and he needed to breath at some point. He clawed at the faerie’s arms, but it was no use.

By the time he’d switched partners, the powder was already running through his system, and Neil was _gone_.

* * *

Neil woke up to long limbs trapping him in bed. The heat was suffocating. He pounded his fists against his restraints until something let up.

“Hey, hey.” A voice yawned. “Calm your tits!”

Neil jumped out of the bed the second the arms were removed, causing a yelp of surprise from the dark-skinned faerie lying next to him, the same one from the night before.

“What did you do to me?” Neil growled.

“What are you-”

_“What did you do?”_ Neil narrowed his eyes.

The faerie held up his hands. “We kissed and I gave you dust!” he told Neil. “Now calm the fuck down!”

The faerie’s tattooed arms bore no wounds from when Neil had scratched open his skin in the circle. Most fae healed extraordinary fast, he remembered. That meant he should focus more on escaping than on disabling his captor.

“Let me go,” Neil demanded.

“No!” The faerie climbed out of bed, clad in only boxers. Neil’s anger spiked, but he gritted his teeth to keep his mouth shut. He had no way of knowing what the faerie really did to him, except for his word.

His mother had told him once that faeries couldn’t outright lie, but there was plenty they could do by omission. They were notoriously silver-tongued bastards, especially when making deals. Neil hoped that the kissing and the _‘dust’_ was really all there was, but he couldn’t know. He couldn’t remember anything.

“Why the fuck not?” Neil stepped closer to the faerie, trying to be intimidating despite his size.

“You’re not mine to let go.” The faerie held his hands up placatingly. “The dust is someone else's, he was the one who told me to give it to you.”

“You work for a kidnapper,” Neil accused.

“Not usually, um,” the faerie scratched the back of his head. “we’re family, you see. I’m Nicky.” He held out his hand for Neil to shake, but Neil knew better than to take it.

“So what, you save human trafficking for special occasions?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call you a _human_ , hon.” Nicky raised his eyebrows. “Not anymore at least, that’s why he wanted you.”

“Who is he?”

Nicky looked about to answer but he was cut off by the door swinging open. A short blonde faerie strode into the room with glasses of water.

“You’re an angel!” Nicky exclaimed, ignoring Neil’s confusion.

“This way you can’t complain to me about your hangover later.” The blonde crossed his arms after putting down the glasses, the first of which Nicky gratuitously downed like it was the difference between life and death.

“It’s cute, that you think I won’t still complain.” Nicky grinned at the blonde’s expression. "You're so fun to mess with sometimes."

“Who is..?” The annoyed faerie gestured at Neil.

“He’s, ah,” Nicky turned to him, a bit helpless. “Neil,” said boy supplied, the favorite of his names. It effectively cut his father out of the picture. “And I’ll be leaving now, if you don’t mind.”

“I do, actually.” The blonde glared at him. “Drink the damn water, dust dehydrates you like a bitch, and no one wants to deal with my brother if they already have a headache.”

Neil’s eyes flitted between the rude faerie and the water. He emptied it onto the carpet and threw it at the shorter man.

“Fuck!” the blonde cursed, ducking so that the glass hit the wall instead of his face. Nicky glanced between the two of them nervously, but the blonde simply shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said darkly, walking out of the room.

“That was Aaron.” Nicky introduced him a little too late for his manners to have any effect.

“I don’t care.” Neil glared at the hallway where Aaron had just stalked off.

“Yeah, okay.” Nicky changed the subject. “The bathroom is right in there.” He pointed to a door facing the foot of the bed. “You should probably clean up before meeting with Andrew.”

_Andrew_. That was the man that was keeping him here. He nodded when he went in, taking the clothes that Nicky offered him.

The second the door was locked behind him, he made a break for it. He pushed up the window and knocked out the screen before jumping out. He hit the ground, rolled to his feet with minimal damage, and took off. He didn’t know where he was or which way to go, as long as he was away from _Andrew_.

A dirt road appeared in the horizon. If Neil could get to that road and start walking, he might be lucky enough to hitchhike to the nearest airport. He sprinted towards it, which should’ve only taken five minutes, but time felt like soup. It was thick and murky and even though he could see the road right in front of him, Neil felt like he was lost. It was like running in place, a constant torment for hours on end. But he _had_ to break through.

He pulled on the little life left inside of him to give him the energy to keep going. If he could just run a little more, he would be home free. He could continue his cycle of running. No one would own him but him, not even Andrew.

It took hours, maybe days, maybe _years_ to break through the haze. He fell to his knees gasping at the side of the road. His lungs weren’t working and his legs had been blown out, but he could no longer see the house behind him.

He heard the sound of a car coming down the first road and almost sobbed in relief, somehow finding the energy to prop himself up against a nearby tree and stuck out his thumb.

The car, gleaming and black and ridiculously nice, miraculously pulled to a stop before him. Neil pushed himself forwards, sighing in relief.

“Thank you-” he started as the driver rolled down the window. He froze.

In the shotgun seat of the car sat a man which Neil was intimately familiar with. He had dark hair and skin only a few shades lighter. He was strong, covered in muscles that stressed against the black fabric of his shirt, and his face was fixed in an expression of irritation. Most importantly, he bore the brand on his cheek that marked him as number two in the Raven Court, as well as the scars on his hand that showed all who could see that he had been forsaken.

“Kevin.” Neil’s mouth dropped open and he stumbled backwards, catching himself against the tree.

“Yes,” came another voice, somehow both gleeful and cruel. “Kevin, who is the reason you’re here.”

Neil’s eyes shot to the man holding the steering wheel. He was a mirror image of Aaron, all except for the clothes he wore and the smile that danced on his mouth. It was a smile like a knife, and Neil wondered if it would cut him if he touched it.

“C’mon rabbit!” the man cooed, keeping his glowing hazel eyes trained on Neil’s. “Don’t make me come out and get you, I’ve already had to come this far.”

Neil flinched, head hitting the trunk of the tree. _Andrew._

“Well?” The faerie’s grin widened, showing teeth far larger than Aaron’s. He looked like a shark that just smelled blood in the water, and Neil had the sinking suspicion he was the prey. “Get in.”

Neil ran.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to incorporate stories that my Papa told me about the fair folk from when he lived in Ireland. If anyone has any stories of their own, you can come talk to me @twnyards on tumblr!


End file.
